Art as Dramatization

Author(s): Richard Shusterman

Reviewed work(s):
Source: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 59, No. 4 (Autumn, 2001), pp. 363372
Published by: Wiley on behalf of The American Society for Aesthetics
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RICHARD SHUSTERMAN

Art as Dramatization

"Dramatise,dramatise!"was the insistent cry

thathauntedHenryJames's artisticgenius.' The
celebratednovelist knew himself a failurein the
theatre; his plays were almost all rejected for
production,and one of the only two produced
was roundly booed on the London stage. Yet
James realized, with brave honesty, that the
basic principle of drama nonetheless held the
key to artistic greatness. Distinguishing nicely
between the terms "Theatre-stuff'and "Dramastuff'-between concrete stage performance
and what he called the deeper "divine principle
of the Scenario" (equally realizable in novels,
films, and television), James turnedthat essential dramatic principle more consciously to
work in composing the later works of fiction
that crown his great career: "The scenic
method,"he wrote, "is my absolute,my imperative, my only salvation."That salvation is evident in his posthumousdramaticsuccess, in the
frequentadaptationsof his fiction into TV dramas and films, and even into two operas by
BenjaminBritten.2
James's assertion of the drama's superiority
could have rested on ancient philosophical authority,but it was also not uncommonin his own
time, and after. Nietzsche, for example, just a
year younger than James, was quick to affirm
RichardWagner'srecognitionthat "the greatest
influence of all the arts could be exercised
through the theatre."3Some generations later,
James's native countrymanand fellow Anglophile, T. S. Eliot, would reaffirmthe supremacy
of drama as "the ideal medium for poetry."
Combiningthe power of meaningfulaction with
the beauty of musical order,poetic dramacould
capture two exquisitely precious and different

kinds of aestheticvalue not easily synthesizedin

a single form. And throughits theatricalperformance, Eliot furtherargued,dramaenabled the
poet to reach "as large and as miscellaneous an
audience as possible."4Eliot thereforemade his
own sustained efforts to write for the theatre,
where, however,he enjoyed only little more initial success than James. (The Broadway hit
Cats, though based on Eliot's light verse, is a
posthumous dramatizationof poetry that he in
fact neverintendedfor theatre,let alone musical
theatre.)
Consideredfrom the point of view of practicing artists (rather than that of philosophers),
drama'spreeminencederives not only from its
presumed ability to reach more people and
move them more powerfully and completely
than other arts (something that may be truer
today for cinema than for theatre).There is also
(dare I say it as an American) the charm that a
successful theatreplay could bring in the quickest (if not always, ultimately) the greatest income to its author.We know from privatecorrespondencethat money was certainlyone motive
for James's interest in writing for the theatre.
But the presence of this motive in no way falsifies the sincerity of his adulation of drama,
which he praised as "the noblest" of arts, long
before he ever seriously thought of a career in
playwriting.James thought drama was noblest
because it was the most challenging-combining the gravest formal demands of "masterly
structure"with the highest requirementof significance of "subject."'5
In this paper,I want to go beyond these more
familiarassertionsof drama'spreeminentinfluence and nobility in order to suggest that the
concept of drama embodies and unites two of
the deepest, most importantconditions of art

The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 59:4 Fall 2001

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The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

364
and may thereforehold the key to a useful definition of art as a whole.
But what is a useful definitionof art?We may
never entirely agree what this is, but we should
at least realize that it can be somethingvery differentfrom what is typically takenand sought as
a formallyvalid and truedefinitionof art.Such a
true definition of art is usually construed in
terms of a set of essential propertiesthatjointly
belong to all artworksand only to them or in
terms of conditions that are jointly necessary
and sufficient for something to be an artwork.
The avowed purpose of such formal definitions
is "to tell us what is the extension of 'art.'It implies no more."6Whetherwe could ever provide
such a definition that not only will accurately
and decisively demarcatethe currentextension
of artbut thatwill continueto hold for all future
artworks continues to be a very controversial
issue. Recurrentdissatisfactionwith the definitions offered, togetherwith a perceptionof art's
volatile history and irrepressible impulse to
challenge defining limits in questing for radically new forms, have combined to make many
(and not only radicalantiessentialists)doubtthat
we can presentlycome up with such a definition
that will be satisfactoryfor all times. Some have
thereforelimited theirdefinitionaleffortsto proposing proceduresfor identifying artworksand
thus determining art's extension in that way.
Others remain committed to the project of real
or true definition and thus ingeniously conjure
up complex defining formulae that aim to be
flexible, general, vague, and multioptional
enough (in pointing to a disjunctiveset of overarchingfunctions,procedures,or historicalrelations of artworksand artpractices)thatthey will
be able to cover all possible artworksof the future. Whether or not such definitions are successful in perfect and permanentcoverage of
art's extension is not what concerns me. I am
more concernedwith whethera definition of art
is useful in improvingourunderstandingandexperienceof artby illuminatingwhat is important
in art, by explaining how art achieves its effect,
or by taking a stand in the controversialstruggles over art's meaning, value, and future.
A definitioncan be useful for aestheticswithout being true in the formal sense of accurately
delimiting the currentextension of art. For instance, an honorific definition of art that was
confined to meritoriousworks would be obvi-

ously false to the acceptedextension of the concept of artand would be logically problematicin
apparentlyprecludingthe notion of bad art.But,
if it were accuratein picking out whatis good art
or what is good in good art, then such a faulty
definitionwould be far more useful for aesthetic
purposes than truer definitions of art that succeed better in the aim of faithful coverage by
equally covering art that is bad or indifferent.
From my pragmatistperspective, it is usually
more important for definitions and beliefs in
aesthetics to be useful than to be formally true
(though the two may sometimes coincide). For
this reason, in PragmatistAesthetics, though I
criticized Dewey's definition of art as experience for being a hopelessly inaccuratedefinition
of art, I also arguedthat his definition was aesthetically more useful than another pragmatist
option of definition that seems eminently more
accurate and valid in the sense of conceptual
coverage-art as a historically defined and socially entrenchedpractice.7
If the value of a definitionof art is in its contributionto our understandingandexperienceof
art,then there are severalforms this service can
take. Definitions can be useful for recommending evaluative standardsfor art. Thus Morris
Weitz arguedthat though real definitions of art
were impossible or wrongheaded, "honorific
definitions"of artcould nonethelessbe valuable
as "recommendationsto concentrateon certain
criteriaof excellence in art."8But I would argue
that nonhonorificdefinitions can also be useful
and not only for the "criteriaof evaluation"that
Weitz stresses. Such definitions can serve to
emphasize certain features of art that may not
be receiving enough attention,thus resulting in
an impoverishing of aesthetic experience and
understanding.They may also help us bring
together various aspects of art into a more
perspicuous constellation, by combining features or reconciling orientationsthat otherwise
seem uncomfortably unconnected or even in
conflict.
So if the value of a definition of art depends
on its capacityto improveourunderstandingand
appreciationof art, what use could there be in
defining art as dramatization?It would be wonderfulif this definitionturnedout to captureand
highlight some enduringly importantand distinctive feature of art. But I shall begin more
modestly, by arguing that this definition is, at

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365

Shusterman Art as Dramatization

least, useful in integratingand thus reconciling
the two most potent general orientations that
dominate and polarize contemporaryaesthetics.
We can call them naturalismand historicism.9
II

Naturalismdefines art as something so deeply

rooted in human naturethat it finds expression,
in one form or another,in virtuallyevery culture.
This view, which is at least as old as Aristotle,
sees artas arisingfrom naturalhumanneeds and
drives: a naturalinclination toward mimesis, a
naturaldesire for balance, form, or meaningful
expression, a thirstfor a kind of enhanced,aesthetic experience that gives the live creaturenot
only pleasurebut a more vivid, heightenedsense
of living.10 Art, it argues, is not only deeply
grounded in natural forces, energies, and
rhythms,but is also an importanttool for the survival and perfectionof humannature;hence, for
many proponents of aesthetic naturalism, the
highest art,the most compelling drama,is the art
of living.1I1Even when artis significantlyshaped
by the societies, cultures,and specializedframeworks in which it is situated,the naturalistsinsist that art-at its best, truest, and most potent-expresses the fullness and power of life.
This line of aesthetic naturalism made its
mark in German philosophy through Friedrich
Nietzsche. In his early study of drama'sorigins
in ancient Greece, Nietzsche arguesthat art was
born of naturalroots, an expression of "overflowing life" or "lively action"arisingfrom "the
innermostgroundof man,,""even from the very
depths of Nature"and deriving its power "from
an overflowing health" or "fullness of Being"
(30, 51, 57, 86; Eng. 4, 22, 29, 55).12The heightened experience of aesthetic ecstasy, which
Nietzsche traces from early Greek tragedyback
to the religious frenzy of the Dionysians, is
championedas "the highest, namely Dionysian
expressionof Nature."In contrast,he condemns
"the culture of Opera" and its "stilo
rappresentativo"as "something so completely
unnatural"(88, 151-152; Eng. 57, 113-114).
Emergingfrom the deepest wells of Nature,true
art celebratesthroughits "aestheticdelight"the
principle of "eternallife beyond all appearance
and despite all destruction."For Nietzsche, then,
"artis not simply an imitation of nature,but its
metaphysical supplement," a "justification of

the world""as an aesthetic phenomenon"(138,

186-187; Eng. 101-102; 142-143).
John Dewey developed pragmatistaesthetics
by plying a similar doctrine of naturalism,insisting that "art-the mode of activity charged
with meaning capable of immediately enjoyed
possession-is the culminationof nature,"while
"'science' [itself an art of sorts] is properly a
handmaidenthat conducts naturalevents to this
happy issue."13Dewey's Art as Experience begins with a chapterentitled"TheLive Creature,"
and the book is largely aimed at "recoveringthe
continuity of aesthetic experience with normal
processes of living" (16). Aesthetic understanding, Dewey urges, must never forget that the
roots of art and beauty lie in the "basic vital
functions,""thebiological commonplaces"man
shares with "bird and beast" (19-20). Even in
our most sophisticatedfine arts that seem most
removed from nature, "the organic substratum
remainsas the quickeninganddeep foundation,"
the sustaining source of the emotional energies
of artwhose trueaim "is to serve the whole creature in his unified vitality." "Underneaththe
rhythm of every art and of every work of art,
there lies," Dewey concludes, "thebasic pattern
of relations of the live creatureto his environment," so that "naturalismin the broadest and
deepest sense of natureis a necessity of all great
art"(155-156).
The impassioned aesthetic naturalisms of
both Nietzsche and Dewey share a common but
insufficiently acknowledged source in Ralph
Waldo Emerson, the transcendentalistprophet
who ardently (and everywhere) preached the
gospel of naturein all its manifold forms, uses,
and resplendentspirituality.Art is just one example. "Art"as Emerson defines it "is nature
Rather
passed through the alembic of man."114
than serving artfor art's sake, art's aim is to advance natureby enhancingthe life of its human
expression; thus "art should exhilarate"by engaging one's "whole energy" and serving fully
"thefunctionsof life." "Thereis higherworkfor
Art thanthe arts,"Emersonconcludes. "Nothing
less than the creation of man and nature is its
end" (192-194).
Praisingnature'sgifts of beauteousforms and
useful symbols for both art and ordinarylanguage, Emerson anticipates Dewey's argument
that art takes its very forms and symbols from
our natural environment: for example, the

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The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

366
pointed style of Gothic architecturefrom the
forest's toweringtrees. Emersonlikewise prefigures the celebrationof the intense sublimity of
aestheticexperiencethatboth Dewey and Nietzsche later emphasize as the highest achievement
of culture, peak experiences that are more profoundly transformativeand creativelyinsightful
than any discursive truthof science. "The poet
gives us the eminent experiences only-a god
steppingfrom peak to peak.""Poetry,"Emerson
continues(in a phrasethatNietzsche made more
famous) "is the gai science. .. and the poet a
truerlogician"one "whounlocks our chains and
admitsus to a new scene" (443, 455-456).
The aesthetic naturalism of these philosophers is more than romantic sentimentalism.
Contemporaryscience lends it significant support. Evolutionary researchers now recognize
that, by and large, the things that naturallygive
us pleasureare good for the survivaland growth
of our species, since we have survived and
evolved not by conscious planning,but by making the choices that natural pleasures have
unreflectively drawn us to. The intense pleasures of sex, for example, impel us towardprocreationfor the survivalof the species, even if it
is not in the individual'srationalbest interestto
takethe risks involvedin such dangerouslyclose
encounters.Art's beauty and pleasures,it can be
argued, have evolutionary value not only for
sharpening our perception, manual skill, and
sense of structure,but also for creatingmeaningful images that help bind separate individuals
into an organiccommunitythroughtheir shared
appreciationof symbolic forms.
Finally, art's pleasures-by their very pleasure-have evolutionaryvalue in thatthey make
life seem worthliving, which is the best guarantee that we will do our best to survive.The long
survival of art itself, its passionate pursuit despite povertyand oppression,and its pervasively
powerful transculturalpresence can all be explained by such naturalisticroots. For,as Emerson, Nietzsche, Dewey, and other life-affirming
aestheticianshave realized,thereis somethingin
the vividness and intensity of art's aesthetic experiencethatheightensour naturalvitalityby respondingto deeply embodied humanneeds.
The quickening,transformativepower of aesthetic experience that the naturalists stress as
art's energizing core need not be confined to
wholly positive experiences of unity and plea-

sure, as my quotes from Emerson, Nietzsche,

and Dewey might suggest. Naturalismextends
beyond happy affirmations of organic wholeness, since naturenot only unifies but also disturbs and divides. Fragmentationand vivid encounters with disagreeable resistance can also
stimulate an invigorating, life-enhancing aesthetic experience, as theorists of the sublime
have long recognized. If contemporary art's
most intense experiences often belong to this
disruptiveyet vitally exciting kind, then an updated naturalismcan accommodatesuch an aesthetics of resistancethat prizes art for its ability
to disturb and oppose social conventions
throughits experientialpower of defiance, even
if that oppositional power also partly relies on
social conventions.
In critical contrast to aesthetic naturalism,
historicismdefines the concept of art more narrowly as a particularhistorical cultural institution producedby the Westernprojectof modernity. Partisansof this view construe earlier and
non-Europeanartistic forms not as art proper
but as objects of craft, ritual,or traditionthat at
best areprecursorsor imperfectanaloguesof autonomous art. The historicists stress the point
thatour currentconcepts of fine artand aesthetic
experience did not really begin to take definite
shape until the eighteenth centuryl5 and that
they only achieved their present "autonomous"
form through social developments of the nineteenth century that established the modern institution of fine art and that culminated in the
turn-of-the-centurynotion of "artfor art's sake."
In the words of the French sociologist Pierre
Bourdieu, probablythe most rigorous and systematic of today's aesthetichistoricists,it is not
at all in naturethat "the foundationof the aesthetic attitude and of the work of art ... is truly
located [but rather] . . . in the history of the artis-

tic institution,"which creates the very "social

conditions of possibility" for art and aesthetic
experience. Thus, "althoughappearingto be a
gift fromnature,the eye of the twentieth-century
art lover is really a productof history.'"16
Twentieth-centuryart, the historicist argument continues, has taken this autonomy and
turnedart into its own preeminentpurpose and
its own primesubjectmatter.Justas artis held to
be the productof its sociohistoricaldifferentiation from real-worldcontexts, so art's meaning
and value are seen as constitutedsimply by the

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Shusterman Art as Dramatization

institutional setting that distinguishes art from
the rest of life. It is, of course, the sociohistorical
institutionalsetting that makes a readymadeobject into a work of art and distinguishesit from
its ordinary nonartistic counterpart.Museums,
galleries, and other artinstitutionsdo not, therefore, simply display art;they help create the social space without which art cannot even be
properlyconstitutedas such.
Bourdieu is joined by the analytic philosophers Arthur Danto and George Dickie in
stressing this point. These and like-mindedhistoricists therefore conclude that it is only
throughthe historically changing social framework of the artworldthat an object becomes an
artwork;its status as such, therefore, depends
not at all on beauty, satisfying form, or pleasurable aesthetic experience, which contemporary
arthas shown to be inessential, if not altogether
depasse'. Some historicists insist that even the
seemingly wider notions of aesthetic object and
aesthetic enjoyment (without the further,more
distinctive claim of artistic status) are likewise
determined by the historical institution of art,
because that institution is held to have determined the generalform thatany aestheticappreciation should take by having defined the very
meaning of the aesthetic.
How, then, should we choose between naturalism and historicism?It seems folly to simply
choose one of these polarizedviews, since each
has severe limitations.17If the naturalisticview
does not sufficientlyaccountfor the social institutions and historical conventionsthat structure
art's practice and govern its reception, the
sociohistorical view cannot adequately explain
the ends for which art practicesand institutions
were developed, what human goods they are
meant to serve, and why non-Western, nonmodernculturesalso pursuewhat seem to be artistic practices.To define art simply as the product of modernity puts in question the deep
historical continuities that constitute the tradition of Westernartfrom GreekandRomantimes
through medieval and Renaissance art into the
modernperiod where art is said to originate.
Another reason why we should not simply
choose between aesthetic naturalism and
historicistconventionalism,between lived experience and social institutions, is that these notions are as much interdependentas they are opposed. Our very notion of a naturallanguage,

which is nonetheless constitutedby social conventions and history, shows the folly of the
naturallsociohistoricaldichotomy. Natural life
without history is meaningless, just as history
without life is impossible.
But if it seems foolish to choose between
viewing art as natural and viewing it as
nonnatural(since sociohistorical),thereremains
a troublingtension between the two approaches.
Naturalismsees art's most valuable essence in
the vivid intensity of its lived experience of
beauty and meaning, in how it directly affects
and stimulatesby engaging themes that appeal
most deeply to our human natureand interests.
On the other hand, there is the historicist insistence that art's crucially defining feature has
nothing at all to do with the vital natureof its
experience, but rather resides in the historically constructedsocial frameworkthat constitutes an object as art by presenting it as such
and institutionallydetermininghow it shouldbe
treatedor experienced.On one side, we see the
demandfor experientialintensity and meaningful substance;on the other,we find the requirement of a social framewithout which no artistic
substance, hence no experience of art, seems
possible.
III

I now want to proposethatthe idea of artas dramatizationprovidesa way of reconciling the residual sense of conflict between these poles of
aesthetic naturalism and sociohistorical contextualism by combining both these moments
within its single concept. In contemporaryEnglish and German,there are two main meanings
for the verb "to dramatise"or "dramatisieren"
thatparallelthe two momentsof experientialintensity and social frame. In its more technical
meaning, to dramatizemeans to "putsomething
on stage,"to take some event or story and put it
in the frame of a theatricalperformanceor the
form of a play or scenario. This sense of "dramatize"highlights the fact that artis the putting
of something into a frame, a particularcontext
or stage that sets the work apartfrom the ordinarystreamof life andthus marksit as art.Art is
the staging or framing of scenes. The familiar
French synonym for this sense of dramatizeis,
of course, "misen scene,"a convenienttermthat
Nietzsche himself used in Ecce Homo to praise

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The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

368
the artistic genius of the Parisians: "Nowhere
else does there exist such a passion in questions
of form, this seriousness in mis en sce'ne-it is
the Parisianseriousnesspar excellence."18
But besides the idea of staging and framing,
"dramatize"also has another main meaning,
which suggests intensity. To "dramatise,"says
the ChambersDictionary,19is "to treat something as, or make it seem, more exciting or imThe Duden Fremdworterbuchmakes
portant."20
the same point for German: "dramatisieren"
means "etwaslebhafter,aufregenderdarstellen."
In this sense of art's dramatization,art distinguishes itself from ordinary reality not by its
fictional frame of action but by its greatervividness of experienceand action, throughwhich art
is opposed not to the concept of life, but rather
to that which is lifeless and humdrum.Etymologically, our concept of dramaderives from the
Greek word "drama,"whose primarymeaning
is a real deed or action, rather than a formal
framing or staged performance.This suggests
that drama's power derives, partly at least, not
from the framing stage but from the stirringenergy of intense action itself; for action is not
only a necessity of life, but a featurethatinvigorates it. But how can we make sense of any action withoutgraspingit throughits framingcontext or situation?
I shall returnto explore this intimateconnection of action and place, but let me first underline the point already made: that dramatization
effectively captures both moments-active intensity and structuralframe-that the naturalist
and contextualist theories respectively and
contestingly advocate in defining art. The idea
of art as dramatizationmay thereforeserve as a
handy formula for fullness, synthesis, and reconciliation of this longstandingand, I think, futile aesthetic debate.
To ensure that we are not building too much
philosophy on the meaning of the single word
"dramatization,"
let us turnto the synonym that
many in Germanypreferto use: "Inszenierung,"
a term that clearly echoes the Frenchterm mise
en scene. Both terms, of course, derivefrom the
Latin scaena (the stage or scene of the theatre),
which derives from the Greek aYK1V1, whose
primary meanings were not initially theatrical
but rathergeneric designations of place: a covered place, a tent, a dwelling place, a temple.
The concept of mise en sce'neor Inszenierung,

with its direct invocation of scene as stage or

place, seems to emphasize art's moment of
frame ratherthan intensity of action or experience.
But we should not conclude that it therefore
ignores this other moment that we found in the
concept of drama.First, mise en scene implies
thatsomethingsignificantis being framedor put
in place; the scene of mise en sce'ne is not a
blandly neutralspace, but the site where something important is happening. Even the very
word "scene"has come to connote this sense of
intensity. In colloquial speech, the "scene" denotes not just any randomlocation, but, as one
says in English, "wherethe action is." It denotes
the focus of the most exciting things that are
happening, for example, in the cultural life or
nightlife of a city. To make a scene, in colloquial
speech, is not simply to do something in a particularplace but to display or provokean excessive display of emotion or active disturbance.In
short, just as the action of drama implies the
frame of place, so the place of scene implies
something vivid, vital, exciting that is framed.
For similar reasons, the English word "situation" (in locutions like "We have a situation
here")is now often used colloquially to suggest
the heightenedintensityof a disturbingproblem
(argument, accident, emergency, breakdown,
etc.).
This reciprocity of heightened experience
and specially significant place, we need to emphasize, is not a mere superficiallinguistic coincidence of English and German.The notion of
scene as the locus of the most intense experience goes back to the deepest ancient sources.
Tellingly used by Euripidesto denote a temple,
the word skene (along with its derivative
skenoma)also served as the ancient Greek term
for the holy tabernacle of the Old Testament
where God's presence was said to dwell. In the
original Hebrew, the word for Tabernacle is
Mishkan(139), which is derivedfrom the word
for divine presence Shechina (77?Tf) sharing
the trilittoralstem skn- (1In), which means to
dwell. Thus the scene of skene means not simply the place of a play but the dwelling of God,
the sacredsite of divine activity and experience,
a locus of overwhelmingexaltation.For, as the
Bible repeatedly declares, "the glory of the
Lord filled the tabernacle,"'21exuding so much
divine intensity that even the steady Moses was

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369

Shusterman Art as Dramatization

overcome. This Hebrew skene, the Mishkan,
was the theatrethat God commandedMoses to
build for Him from the voluntarydonations of
precious metals, cloth, and jewels collected
from all the Hebrew people. Its crucial, sacred
importance is witnessed through the detailed
descriptionof its complex constructionand ornamentation,which fills the final six chaptersof
the book of Exodus. Thus, the divine roots of
dramaor mise en scene, its role as a holy locus
of intense experience, is vividly present also in
ancient Hebrew culture, not just in the Greek
cult of Dionysus to which Nietzsche (a minister's son, after all) later pays tribute.
IV

Drama,as Aristotle long ago describedit, is the

presentation of heightened action within a
well-structuredformal frame of "a certain,definite magnitude,""a well-constructedplot" with
a clear "beginning, middle, and end."22If the
deep dramathat defines art in general is a complex play of heightened experience and formal
frame, then good art should ignore neither of
these moments. To concentrate solely on the
frame will eventually degenerateinto bare and
barren formalism where art remains alienated
from the inspiringinterestsand energies of life.
But to dismiss art's respect for cultivationof its
frame because of a frantic lust for experiential
intensitywould threatena parallelartisticwasteland: the empty clutter of shallow sensationalism devoid of any enduring form, so that we
might eventuallylose the very capacityto distinguish particularartworksfrom each other and
from other things. Even those genres (such as
performanceart and happenings) that most effectively challengedthe rigidity of art's separating frame nonetheless relied on some sense of
this frame in order to claim their artistic status
andgive themselvesthe meaningthey intended.
But if good art must be fundamentallydramatic in the double sense we have identified,
viz., as intense experience capturedand shaped
within a special formalframe,how then do these
two dimensions of drama-intensity of experience (in action or feeling) and formal stagingfit together?How compatiblecan they be? They
seem to pull in different directions, especially
when we accept the popularpresumptionsthat
lived fervor cannot tolerate formal staging and

that art's distancing frame conversely subverts

real-life intensity of affect and action. But art's
power might be better understoodby challenging these dogmas. So I shall conclude by arguing that the apparenttension between art's explosively vital life-feeling and its formal frame
(a tension that underlies the conflict between
aesthetic naturalism and artistic historicism)
shouldbe seen as no less productiveandreciprocally reinforcing than the familiar tension between content and form to which it seems obviously related.
A frame is not simply an isolating barrierof
what it encloses. Framingfocuses its object, action, or feeling more clearly and thus sharpens,
highlights, enlivens. Just as a magnifying glass
heightensthe sun's light andheatby the concentrationof its refractingframe, so art'sframe intensifies the power its experienced content
wields on our affective life, renderingthat content far more vivid and significant. But, conversely, the intensity of feeling or heightened
sense of action that is framedreciprocallyjustifies the act of framing.We do not framejust anything. A frame with nothing in it would be unsatisfying, so that when we find an empty frame
or plain white canvashanging on a gallery wall,
we automaticallyproject a significant content
onto the apparentemptiness,even if it be the interpretivecontent that art need have no other
contentbut itself andits essential aspectof framing. Otherartscan providetheirown similarexamples. Thinkof composerJohnCage's famous
4'33" or choreographerPaul Taylor'sDuet (two
dancersmotionless on stage).
In short,just as actionmakesno sense without
the notion of a framing place where the action
occurs, so our sense of frame,place, or stage has
theprimafacie implicationthatsome significant
activity (recalling the original Greek root of
drama)inhabitsthatframe.Greatwriterssuch as
HenryJames are thereforepraisedfor rendering
their fictional scenes so captivatinglyvivid and
real, not by providing intricately long descriptions of their physical setting (since such description can be tediously deadening), but instead throughthe compelling intensityof action
thattakes place within that setting,includingthe
action of passionate thought and feeling. This
lesson of aestheticrealism finds confirmationin
the psychological theories of Henry's famous
brother,the philosopherWilliamJames,who ar-

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The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

370
gues that our immediatesense of reality "means
simply relation to our emotional and active
life.... In this sense, whateverexcites and stimulates our interestis real."23
Although art's dramatizing frame can
heighten reality through its intensification of
feeling, we must not forget the frame's other,
contrastingfunction that is far more familiarto
our thinkingaboutart.A framenot only concentrates but also demarcates;it is thus simultaneously not just a focus but a barrierthat separates what is framed from the rest of life. This
important bracketing effect, which tends to
"derealize"what is framed, not only helps explain the long aesthetictraditionof sharplycontrastingart to reality but also forms the fulcrum
for influential theories of aesthetic distance.
This bracketingaspect of the frame clearly inspires aesthetic historicism, which, we saw, defines art and the aesthetic by their social differentiationfrom other realms, entirely in terms of
the special historically constructedinstitutional
frameworkthat makes an object an artworkor
rendersits appreciationa distinctively aesthetic
experience.
In this knot of productivetension that binds
art'sheightenedexperienceto its formalstaging,
another strengtheningstrand should be noted.
This furthertwist in drama'sdialectical play of
lived intensity and separatingframe is that precisely the bracketingoff of artfrom the ordinary
space of life is what affords art its feeling of
lived intensity and heightened reality. Because
art's experience is framed in a realm alleged to
be apartfrom the worrisome stakes of what we
call real life, we feel much more free and secure
in giving ourselves up to the most intense and
vital feelings. As Aristotle already adumbrated
in his theory of catharsis,art's frame permitsus
to feel even life's most disturbingpassions more
intensely, because we do so within a protected
framework where the disruptive dangers of
those passions can be contained and purged, so
thatneitherthe individualnor society will suffer
serious damage.
Art's restrainingframe thus paradoxicallyintensifies our passionate involvementby removing other inhibitionsto lived intensity.Art's fictions are therefore often said to feel far more
vividly real than much of what we commonly
take as real life. It is as if art's bracketeddiversion from ordinaryreality allows us an indirect

routeto appreciatethe real far more fully or profoundly by puttingus somehow in touch with a
reality that is at least greaterin its experiential
depths of vivid feeling. This argument seems
prefigured in Nietzsche's famous praise of
drama for piercing the everyday veil of solid,
separateobjects-an Appollonian dream-world
of clear forms and distinctive persons governed
by the "principio individuationis,"so as to deliver our experienceto the deeper Dionysian reality of frenzied "Oneness"and flux (138-139;
Eng. 55-58), the groundreality of "omnipotent
will behindindividuation,eternallife continuing
beyond all appearanceandin spite of all destruction" (51, 138-139; Eng. 56, 101-102).
Some might protestthat such argumentscorruptthe very meaning of reality,which must be
reservedfor the world of ordinarylife and kept
absolutelydistinctfrom the notion of artwith its
frame of staging-the sign of the unreal. To
reply to such protests,one could invokethe constructed fictions and staged experiments that
form the respected realities of science. But we
should also note that the realities of everyday
life are everywhereplayed out on the stages set
by diverse institutional frames. Indeed, from
certain lofty yet familiar perspectives,it seems
that "All the world's a stage," as Shakespeare
tells us, where life itself is but "a poor player
that strutsand frets his hour upon the stage, and
then is heard no more."24In the ancient quarrel
between philosophy and poetry, one wonders
whether art has so often been denigratedas a
staged imitationof life because real life itself is
modeled on dramaticperformance.
I shall here not venturefurtherinto the question of the real nature of reality. This seems a
hopeless question,partlybecause "reality"is an
essentially contestedconcept,but also becauseit
is based on a grammaticalsubstantivederived
from the very flexible adjective"real,"which as
J. L. Austin showed is so peculiarlyvariableand
complexly contextualin usage that any attempt
to find a significant common core that constitutes reality "is doomed to failure."25Instead,let
me conclude by recalling the paradoxthat art's
apparent diversion from real life may be a
needed pathof indirectionthatdirectsus back to
experiencelife more fully throughthe infectious
intensity of aesthetic experience and the release
of affective inhibitions. This suggests that the
long-established art/life dichotomy should not

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371

Shusterman Art as Dramatization

be taken too rigidly, that we have here at best a
functional distinction that surely seems to dissolve with the idea of the art of living.
But I think the logic of this paradoxhas still
more radical implications for the defense of a
concept far more despised than art for its frivolous diversion from reality-I refer to the term
"entertainment,"which past philosophers have
often used to denigrate the dramatizationsof
operabut which now chiefly serves to condemn
today's more popular artistic forms (including
TV dramas such as Germany's Tatort, whose
very title capturesnot only the deepest dimensions of art but the crucial practical and
spatiotemporaldimensions of humanlife26).Etymology also reveals that the very meaning of
"entertainment"(or its German term "Unterhaltung") concerns the maintenance of life. If
entertainment's much-denounced diversions
from real life serve, in fact, as necessary, valuable detoursthatenhancelife's journey and help
rechargethe batteriesof our humanvehicle, then
they may also (partly through these functions)
allow us sometimes to perceive the world far
more fully and deeply. From the findings of
somatics and neurophysiology,we could make a
cognitive case for the value of entertainment's
relaxing diversions. On the basic sensorimotor
level of perception,if we release from the stress
of chronic voluntarymuscularcontractions,the
increased muscle relaxation will allow for
heightened sensitivity to stimuli and therefore
providefor sharperperceptionand deeperlearning. This particularline of argumentcalls for
more detailed elaboration;it belongs to a larger
project I call somaesthetics.27 But the lifeenhancingvalues of entertainmentshouldbe evident from the reader's own experience. They
are even recognizedby cannytheoristswho condemn entertainmentas the dangerousantagonist
of true cultureand art.28
RICHARD SHUSTERMAN

Departmentof Philosophy
Temple University
Philadelphia,Pennsylvania19122
INTERNET:

shusrich@astro.temple.edu

1. See HenryJames,"Prefaceto 'The Altarof the Dead,"'

in TheArt of the Novel (New York:Scribners,1934), p. 265.

In this same preface, the variation"Dramatiseit, dramatise

it" is also thrice invoked,pp. 249, 251, and 260.
2. These quotes from Henry James are takenfrom the introductoryessays of Leon Edel, in his edition of The Complete Plays of Henry James (New York:Oxford University
Press, 1990), pp. 10, 62, and 64.
3. Friedrich Nietzsche, "RichardWagner in Bayreuth,"
Untimely Meditations (Cambridge:Cambridge University
Press, 1994), sect. 8, p. 227.
4. T. S. Eliot, The Use of Poetryand the Use of Criticism
(London: Faber, 1964), pp. 152-153. See also his "Poetry
and Drama,"in On Poetryand Poets (London:Faber,1957),
pp. 72-88.
5. The CompletePlays of Henry James, p. 34-35.
6. Robert Stecker,Artworks:Definition, Meaning, Value
(PennsylvaniaState University Press, 1997), p. 14. Stecker
nonethelessfirmly advocatesthe need for such a philosophical definitionof art,unilluminatingas mere extensionalcoverage may be. Though he notes my objectionthat such definitions are not usefully informative(17), he does not really
respondto this chargeand the argumentsthat motivateit. In
his attemptto escape the difficulties that plague functionalist, historical, and institutionaldefinitions, Stecker offers a
multifaceted disjunctive definition, "historical functionalism, or the four-factortheory,"thatcombines elements of the
three more basic definitionalapproaches.One theorist who
sensibly prefersto set his sights not on a real definitionof art
but on a theoryor "reliablemethodfor identifyingartworks"
is Noel Carroll,who offers an historical theory in terms of
"identifyingnarrative."See Noel Carroll,"IdentifyingArt,"
in Robert Yanal,ed., Institutionsof Art (PennsylvaniaState
University Press, 1994), pp. 3-38. A good overview of the
majorstrategiesin analyticphilosophy'sattemptsat defining
artcan be found in StephenDavies, Definitionsof Art (Cornell University Press, 1991). The goal of defining the concept of art once and for all by a single set of necessary and
sufficient conditions that neatly and helpfully divide all actual andpossible objects into those thatare artandthose that
are not art seems futilely problematicto me for a varietyof
reasons: the multiple meanings and uses of the term "art";
art's open, creative nature and its valued hence contested
character;changing conceptions of art over history;and the
very different and changing ways that art is deeply connected yet also distinguishedfrom otherpracticesin the different societies in which it is situated.For a more detailed
critiqueof the value of such extension-coveragedefinitions,
which I call "wrappertheories of art,"see my Pragmatist
Aesthetics: Living Beauty, Rethinking Art (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1992; 2nd ed., New York: Rowman &
Littlefield),pp. 38-45.
7. Ibid., pp. 34-35 and 46-61.
8. MorrisWeitz, "TheRole of Theory in Aesthetics,"The
Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 15 (1956), pp. 2735, citation p. 35.
9. I am, of course, awarethat the terms "naturalism"and
"historicism"have manydifferentmeaningsin aesthetictheory, some of which are much more specific than the general
meaning they bear in this paper.
10. See Aristotle,Poetics, 1448b: "Itis clear thatthe general origin of poetry was due to two causes, each of them
part of human nature.... Imitation,then being naturalto
us-as also the sense of harmony and rhythm, the metres
being obviously species of rhythm-it was through their

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The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

372
original aptitude, and by a series of improvementsfor the
most part gradualon their first efforts, that they createdpoetry out of their improvisations."
11. For more detailed argument of these themes, see
Pragmatist Aesthetics and "The End of Aesthetic Experience," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 55
(1997): 29-41.
12. Friedrich Nietzsche, Die Geburt der Tragodie,
FriedrichNietzsche, Werke,Band 1 (Leipzig: Alfred Kroner
Verlag, 1930); translatedby FrancisGolffing as TheBirthof
Tragedy in The Birth of Tragedy and the Genealogy of
Morals (New York: Doubleday, 1956). I give page references to both editions but have sometimes used my own
translation.
13. See John Dewey, Experience and Nature (Carbondale: SouthernIllinois University Press, 1981), p. 269, and
especially,Art and Experience(SouthernIllinois University
Press, 1987); page referencesto this work will appearparenthetically.
14. RalphWaldoEmerson,"Nature,"in Ralph WaldoEmerson, ed. R. Poirier (New York:Oxford University Press,
1990), p. 12. Furtherquotes from Emersonin this paperare
taken from other texts in this collection of his essays and
poems, andtheirpage numberswill be notedparenthetically.
15. See, for instance,the work of Paul 0. Kristeller,"The
ModernSystem of Art,"TheJournal of the History of Ideas
11 and 12 (1951, 1952), which is very frequentlycited by
analytic aestheticians.
16. See Pierre Bourdieu, "The Genesis of Pure Aesthetic,"in RichardShusterman,ed., AnalyticAesthetics(Oxford: Blackwell, 1989), pp. 148-149.
17. Anotherreason to resist choosing simply one of these
dualist alternativesrelates to a general principle of pragmatic pluralismthat I call "theinclusive disjunctivestance."
The familiarlogical disjunction"eitherpor q" is here understood pluralisticallyto includeeitherone or both alternatives
(as it does in standardpropositionallogic and in the common
occasions of everydaylife where one can choose more than
one thing, e.g., either wine or water or both). This is in contrastto the exclusive sense of "either/or"where one alternative strictly excludes the other, as indeed it sometimes does
in life as well as logic. With pragmatism'sinclusive stance,
we should presume that alternativetheories or values can
somehow be reconcileduntil we are given good reasonswhy
they are mutuallyexclusive. Thatseems the best way to keep
the path of inquiry open and to maximize our goods. I defend this principle in the Introductionto the second edition
of PragmatistAesthetics, x-xiii.
18. FriedrichNietzsche, Ecce Homo in Friedrich Nietzsche, Werke,Band 5 (Leipzig: Alfred Kroner,Verlag, 1930),
p. 326; or in R. J. Hollingdale'sEnglish translation(London:
Penguin, 1992), p. 30.

19. Chambers 21st Century Dictionary (Cambridge:

Chambers,1996).
20. This second sense of dramatizeis very similar to the
dominant contemporary meaning of the French verb
as emphasizingor exaggeratingthe importance
"dramatiser"
or gravityor dramaof an event. This meaning is seen as an
extension of an older Frenchusage of the term that conveys
the idea of putting something into a form properto drama,
e.g., dramatizinga story. This more limited and technical
meaning parallels the first sense of "dramatize"already
noted in English and German.The Frenchverb "dramatiser"
was apparently first introduced in 1801 with respect to
Shakespeare.For more details, see Petit LaRousse (Paris:
LaRousse, 1959); Dictionnaire historique de la langue
francaise (Paris: Robert, 1992), vol. 1; and Tresor de la
languefrancaise (Paris:CNRS, 1979), vol.7.
21. Exodus 40: 34, 36.
22. Aristotle, Poetics, chap. 7, 1450b.
23. William James, Principles of Psychology, 1890 (HarvardUniversityPress, 1983), p. 924.
24. The quotes are from Shakespeare'sAs You Like It
2.7.139 and Macbeth 5.5.23.
25. J. L. Austin, Sense and Sensibilia (Oxford: Oxford
UniversityPress, 1964), p. 70.
26. This paper is based on a lecture originally given in
German and entitled "Tatort:Kunst als Dramatisierung."
"Tatort"(which is composed of the Germanwords for "act"
and "place")is the Germantermfor "sceneof the crime,"but
it is also the name of one of the most popularTV crime series on German television. My original German title thus
highlightsthe paper'sthemes of action,frame,andentertainment in a special way. I thankthe FrankfurtOperafor inviting me to deliverthis paperas the Eroffnungsvortrag
of their
conferenceon "Aesthetikder Inszenierung"(March2000). I
am also grateful to Josef Fruchtl, Heidi Salaverria,Rita
Felski, and Julie Van Camp for helpful comments.
27. See my account of somaestheticsin PerformingLive
(Cornell UniversityPress, 2000), especially pp. 166-181.
28. HannahArendt,for example, thougha severe critic of
popular culture's entertainment,still recognizes entertainment's enormous value for life. She simply defines art and
culture as something essentially opposed to ordinary"life,"
but insteadrelatedto what she designates (probablythrough
Heidegger's influence) as "the world."See HannahArendt,
"The Crisis in Culture:Its Social and Its Political Significance,"in Between Past and Future: Six Essays in Political
Thought(New York:Viking, 1961), pp. 197-226. I provide
furtherargumentsfor the value of the pleasuresof entertainment in art in my "Come Back to Pleasure,"in Let's Entertain: Life's GuiltyPleasures (Minneapolis:WalkerArt Center, 2000), pp. 33-47.

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